


Heartstrings

by minnesotamemelord



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Flashbacks, Flashbacks within a flashback, Gen, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, I really love flashback fics can't you tell, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Leaving Home, Overdosing, Platonic Relationships, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Rehabilitation, Road Trips, holy shit this thing turned out long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnesotamemelord/pseuds/minnesotamemelord
Summary: Everyone knew that Diego and Klaus left within hours of one another. What they didn't know what that they left together.





	Heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> I love Klaus & Diego, but my next fic is going to be Five & Vanya, which is going to be pretty cool. Comment who you want to see next! (Tbh, I probably won't do Klaus/Dave or Klaus & Ben but I'll basically do anything else)

It was a warm April night, dark and stormy as ever, and Diego Hargreeves was wide awake. He sat on the edge of his bed, playing with the worn edge of the quilt. Outside his window, thunder crashed and lighting reflected off the knives strapped to the wall. Open in front of him was his suitcase, branded with a huge number two on the front. He didn't have much in the way of clothes, or belongings of any kind, but the suitcase felt symbolic. He still had a choice to make. Stay or go. Family or freedom. He knew most eighteen year olds didn't have to choose like this, didn't have to decide whether or not to abandon everything they'd ever known just in order to make their own lives. His father had done this, corrupted his very existence to the point where his only two options were to change his life forever or continue to live in this waking nightmare that Reginald Hargreeves had constructed.

But there were good things about this place, too.

The quilt under his hands was the product of one of those. And so was the box of needlepoint under his bed. And the waffles he ate for breakfast every morning and the clothes on his back and every ounce of strength he held within himself. He could see his mother in his mind, poised and graceful. He could smell her perfume, feel her hands on his shoulders, hear her words in his mind: _"Just picture the word in your mind, Diego."_ She was the one thing that held him here, that had stopped him from running away years ago. The only thing keeping him rooted here, to this spot on his bed, was what felt like a string connected to his heart, stretching down through the floorboards to the kitchen, where Diego could practically hear her humming as she washed the dishes. It physically hurt him to leave her.

Still, he rose unsteadily to his feet and opened the doors to his closet as quietly as possible. All the clothes he owned hung there, his blazers and shorts pressed and hung on one side, his skintight black leather suit on the other. They served as a reminder that the Umbrella Academy was the only part of himself that he knew, and that if he left, he would have to pull a new version of himself out of thin air. But he couldn't bear to leave them behind, to leave with nothing, so he gathered as much as he could in his arms and folded them gently into the suitcase. On the very top, he put three things: his domino mask, three of his favorite knives (plus the two he had been trained to keep strapped on him at all times), and on a whim, the thin quilt that covered his bed. It required him to leave some of his clothes behind, but that was worth it. This quilt was the only thing he owned that his father hadn't given to him, and it was the only thing that really felt like  _him._ With a struggle, he closed the clasps of the stuffed suitcase and gazed around his room one last time. Unlike his siblings, Diego had barely put any decorations up over the years. A poster for his band here. A decorative case for his knives there. There was just one thing he had left to take with him. 

Deftly, Diego reached up over his desk and lifted the single photograph that hung there off the wall. It was possibly the only image in the entire house with the entire family in it, including Mom and Vanya. He tucked the frame under one arm and picked up the suitcase with the other. On quiet feet, he slipped out of the room and began to creep down the hallway. Luther was the deepest sleeper of all, so there wasn't a chance of him waking up. Allison slept with earplugs in, because she shared a wall with Luther and he snored. Loudly. Vanya slept under a mountain of pillows, and her room was the closest to the train, so any noise he made would be covered up. Nobody would hear him if he left now. Nobody, that is, except one. Much like everyone else, at all times, Diego had forgotten Klaus.

Diego's room and Klaus's room were right next to each other, and over the years, he had gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night to terrified, blood-curdling screams as Klaus awoke from another nightmare. Nobody else could hear him, so much like tonight, Diego would get up as quiet as he could and slip into Klaus's room. He sat with his brother until he fell back asleep, and then he went back to bed. Sometimes, Klaus couldn't sleep, though, so they would talk until the sun came up and their mother came in to wake them all. Or, Klaus woke up so many times in one night that Diego grabbed the blanket off his bed and curled up on Klaus's floor, right next to the bed. And sometimes, Klaus didn't sleep at all that night, and Diego could hear him through the wall, breathing heavily and muttering, either to himself or to the ghosts that seemed to follow him everywhere. No matter what, Diego could almost always tell what kind of night it would be. And this night was the latter. As he tiptoed down the hall, he forgot about the one creaky floorboard that was, of all places, right outside Klaus's room. It groaned loudly as he put his weight on it, and he heard Klaus's feet hit the floor.

"Shit," he whispered, looking around for a place to hide. But there was none, and Klaus opened the door to find a sheepish-looking Diego, trying to look normal.

"Diego, why are you still-" he yawned. "-up?" His eyes traveled from Diego's guilty face down his fully-dressed torso until they finally came to rest on the suitcase in his hand. "You're... leaving?" Diego sighed.

"Klaus, you weren't supposed to see me, just... go back to bed. Forget you saw me." As he turned, fully prepared to run if he had to, Klaus's bony, freezing hand grabbed his arm and yanked him into his room with surprising force.

"So, that's it? You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?" He punched Diego in the shoulder, hard. "Asshole."

"Ow, that- that hurt, you know."

”Did it? Well, you know what else hurts? Catching your brother sneaking out in the middle of the night so he can leave without saying goodbye.” He was right, of course, which Diego knew, but did not want to acknowledge. “Why would you do that, Diego?” Klaus asked, quieter this time. “Why?”

Diego shrugged, eyes downcast.

”I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see you all, because if I did, I-I-I-“ he gritted his teeth and forced the words out. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave. But I can’t stay, either.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

"Yeah, well..." Klaus's arms dropped limply to his sides. "Whatever. If you're gonna go, go."

"You know I'm not leaving 'cause of you, Klaus, right?" The idea, to Diego, was frankly ridiculous. In fact, Klaus was one of the two things about this place that made him even consider staying. Klaus chuckled ruefully, and as he looked up, Diego could see tears in his eyes. He didn't think he'd ever seen his brother cry.

"Well, I'm not enough to make you stay, so..." Diego stood up, pacing the narrow room.

"Jesus, Klaus, don't you get it? I'm leaving so you'll have a better shot. The more of us stay here, the more hold Dad keeps over us. But if I leave, it opens a door for you, and for everyone else. You all can get out of here, but somebody's got to make the first move." He sat back down across from Klaus, who had folded his knees to his chest. "Get it?"

"Yeah." Klaus sounded defeated. "It's just..." Through his tears, he smiled. "Who's gonna bring me a glass of water when I wake up in the middle of the night screaming now?"

"I'm sure you can get one of the others-"

"You know I can't. They all sleep like logs except you and me. And who's going to make sure I eat breakfast, or that Dad never finds my needles-" Diego shuddered. "-or sneak out to the library with me?" The fond memories warmed Diego a bit, spreading a grim smile across his face.

Since they were twelve, they had snuck out once a month to the public library. Not for anything weird, just books. Normal kids snuck out to parties and things, but not the Hargreeves. So, every once in a while, on one of those nights where Klaus couldn't sleep, Diego grabbed him and they stole the car out of the garage and went to the library, just to feel normal. Sometimes, Ben came with them, but for the most part, it was just the two of them. And they sat in the furthest back section of the library, huddled together, poring over history books (Diego's favorite) or Stephen King (Klaus's favorite) or sci-fi (Ben's favorite), and they talked.  About how much they hated their father, and what being normal must be like, and Klaus's drug use, and how much they hated their father, but mostly, they talked about leaving. Stealing the car permanently and getting the hell out of dodge. If they'd thought any of the other kids would want to, they might have done it long ago, but everyone else seemed comfortable in their own skin.

Luther had come into his own as Number One, and he wouldn't leave without Allison.

Allison could get whatever she wanted. She could charm their father into letting her leave, instead of sneaking out well after he was asleep.

Five was gone, but when he was there, he could pop in and out wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and didn't really give a damn about their father.

Ben was dead, but when he was alive, he was the only one they thought about bringing with them. But it was too late for that.

Vanya wouldn't have been allowed to leave, and it was too hard to try to sneak her out with them.

 

So, they never let anyone into their little group, which was whittled down to a little pair, and they clung to their fantasies. Of leaving, of getting an apartment, of going to school and finding normal jobs and going out like normal people who had led normal lives and just being... normal. But years passed, and they never made any real progress. Until now. They sat side-by-side on the bed, Diego's arm wrapped around Klaus's thin frame. They couldn't imagine leaving each other, and yet, that was what was happening.

And then Diego got an idea.

"Come with me." Klaus lifted his head off of Diego's shoulder.

"What?"

"Come with me. It'll be just like we talked about-"

"When we were thirteen, Diego!"

"So? It's got to be better than this hellscape. Look, Klaus, I can take care of you if you come with me. We can finally be happy. And who knows, maybe Vanya or Allison or," he added begrudgingly, "Luther can join us later. Please." Diego stood up and offered Klaus his free hand, picking up his suitcase with the other. Klaus looked at it, then up at Diego, then back down to his hand. Slowly, curiously, a grin spread across his face, lightening the darkness that always seemed to live there. He reached out and took Diego's hand, using it to pull himself to his feet.

"Give me a minute to pack my stuff." Klaus reached under his bed and pulled out his suitcase, nearly identical to Diego's except for the number on it. Unceremoniously, he tossed in his clothes, his Doc Martens, his eyeliner, plus the stack of books hidden between his bed and the wall (Reginald Hargreeves didn't have a problem with reading in and of itself, but he viewed _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ and _The Great Gatsby_ outside the realm of great literature. He was more of a _Moby Dick_ kind of guy.) With a grunt, he slammed the case shut and snapped the locks. "Alright," he said. "Let's go." Side-by-side, they crept down the hall and down the stairs, feeling just like they had when they were fourteen and snuck out to the library, or when they were sixteen and went to see a Survivor concert. It was that same sense of excitement, one that outweighed the fear of being caught, that lifted their spirits so high they could hardly keep from giggling like idiots.

Diego paused outside the door to the garage.

"Once we go out this door, we can't go back. We're gone. For good." Klaus grinned, more relaxed than he'd been in years. Maybe ever.

"Diego, I'm never gonna want to come back here." He slipped past Diego and shoved the door open. In the garage, there was just one thing- Reginald Hargreeves's beautiful Rolls-Royce convertible. In the dozens of times they'd stolen it, they had never been caught. Now, they certainly would, but there was nothing anyone would be able to do to find them. With his free hand, Diego unlocked the trunk with the keys he'd snagged from the hook in the foyer and loaded their suitcases in, slamming it shut a little more forcefully than he should have.

"Get in the car." Diego pointed to the passenger-side door.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," Klaus replied. Sitting in the car, in dead silence, neither one moved an inch. Finally, Diego turned the keys in the ignition and hit the garage door opener. The car roared to life, no doubt waking at least one person. They pulled out into the street and sped off, the Academy slowly disappearing in the rear view mirror, literally and figuratively. Klaus opened the glove compartment and scrambled through it.

"What are you looking for?" Diego asked without taking his eyes off the road. Klaus ignored him until finally, he found what he was looking for.

"Aha!" He held up the cassette tape in his hand, a very familiar one to the both of them. It was the mixtape Luther had made for their twelfth birthday. Reginald thought gifts were pointless and frivolous, so every night on their birthday, well after they were all supposed to be in bed, they crept up to the attic and exchanged gifts. On this particular birthday, Luther gave them all mixtapes of his favorite songs (generally awful disco & the early Beatles), Diego handed out tiny whittled figurines of everyone, Allison had rumored her way into seven pairs of leather gloves with brass buttons, Klaus had compiled a scrapbook of Polaroid photos of the seven of them (all of the other photographs of them were solemn family portraits. Klaus's photos were mostly candids, and caught them in a much more accurate light than Reginald's enormous portraits ever could), Five brought out a twelve-pack of Cokes (which might not have seemed like a big deal, but Reginald didn't allow caffeine or added sugar into the house), Ben put in a VCR copy of _Gone With The Wind_ (a personal favorite of his, although he had only ever been permitted to read the book), and Vanya, who often found herself excluded from family activities, but never from this one, gave put charm bracelets made from broken violin strings, dangling with their initials. It was one of the only times they had all felt like a family, instead of just seven pre-teens that lived together.

Memories faded away as Klaus popped the tape into the player and hit play.

"Why couldn't Luther have better taste, huh? Instead of this crap."

"Lay off him. We got out. He didn't." Diego went silent. "So... where do we go now?"

"I guess... we sell the car, use the cash to get an apartment. Find some jobs. Go to school. Live normal lives." And that's just what they did. For a time, anyway. The car turned out to be worth decent money, which they used to get a tiny apartment on the opposite side of town from the Academy. It was a studio, and Diego slept on the pullout couch, but it was all their own. Diego got a job mopping floors at a boxing joint at night, and went to the police academy during the day. Klaus was a different, less productive story. He started college, studying anthropology on a full scholarship (being a former Umbrella Academy member had its perks), but it wasn't long before his vices got the better of him. The ghosts weren't going away, and neither were the bills flooding in through the mail slot. So, rather than fixing those things through hard work and dedication, he chose ignoring them and getting high. His grades dropped, little by little, until they finally plummeted. Not even being a medium could save him from expulsion, and that was when things took a turn for the much, much worse. He hopped from job to job, never lasting more than two weeks. The drugs were his life because they pulled him away from the death that ruled over him. Diego would come home from school every day to find Klaus curled up in the corner of the kitchen, poison flowing through his veins. The hospital became their second home, and even more bills piled up. Life outside of the Academy became just as nightmarish as life on the inside, and Diego couldn't handle it anymore. The weight of everything in his life and Klaus's pushed down on his chest like a block of concrete, and Diego's new job a a cop was not conducive to Klaus's lifestyle.

Finally, that July, it came to an end. Diego was walking home from his shift. It was three in the morning, which was the only hour of the day Diego really felt like he could be normal. The quiet, the humidity that bordered on rain, the moon shining through the clouds. It reminded him of when he and Klaus and Five used to have sleepovers in the attic. They curled up in a huge blanket, all three of them together, on the windowsill. They had stolen a pack of Allison's rumored cigarettes and Klaus had brought the lighter that he usually used to light fires in his dresser drawers. Each of them held one of the thin, white sticks. Diego held the tiny flame under them, and the three of them watched the smoke rise into the air. It was exactly one week before Five would disappear. In unison, they inhaled, the light of the moon coloring everything a hazy blue. Klaus turned out to be the only one that could hold any smoke. Five hunched over and vomited onto the sidewalk below. Diego coughed up a lung. Klaus just leaned back and breathed out, his green eyes turned up at the sinking moon. It was that exact same kind of night.

There was a clatter in a nearby alleyway. Diego pressed his back to the wall, reaching for the knife strapped to his back that... wasn't there. Shit. He peered around the corner. There was nothing there. Simultaneously relieved and disappointed, he glanced around one more time. Both of those emotions faded when he saw the familiar brown curls and the even more familiar tattoo slumped over between a dumpster and somebody's bicycle. There were only four people on earth with that tattoo. The black band wrapped around the bicep and the needle in the arm made it immediately clear which of the four it was.

"Klaus? Oh, shit. Klaus? Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh- Jesus Christ, Klaus." Diego rushed to him and untied the tourniquet. The next part was a little more complex, not in the actual physical process, but given that his head was spinning and his stomach was in his throat and his three greatest fears in life were needles, something happening to Mom, and clowns (in that order), he was practically paralyzed. But this was his brother, and Diego would do anything for him. He braced Klaus's arm with one hand and grasped the syringe with the other. Slowly but surely, he removed it and tossed it into the dumpster. Almost immediately, he turned and puked into the gutter. Head swimming, chest heaving, he slid his shaking arms under Klaus's legs and back and wobbled to his feet. He clutched Klaus to his chest, feeling his own heart pounding in his chest, hearing it louder than his surroundings. Klaus's was weak and slow, hardly noticeable. Diego took off running down the sidewalk, legs pumping through the vertigo. He ran nearly a mile to the hospital, breathing strained and painful. The emergency room was nearly empty this early, both in terms of patients and doctors.

"Help! W-We need a-a doctor! Help! Please!" Unable to control his stutter, Diego felt the blood rush to his face, knees buckling so that he hit the ground. He still held onto Klaus, though, and when they took him and put him in a bed and dosed him with naloxone, he held tight to Klaus's hand. When he finally stirred, breathing almost normal, he didn't let go, reaching up with the other hand to pull the oxygen mask off his face.

"Hey."

"Hey." Klaus's eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

"What the hell, Klaus?" Diego asked, voice trembling. "Heroin? I mean, I knew you were getting high, but... Jesus, Klaus."

"I'm sorry." Klaus's voice was sober, which was an ironic description.

"You're s-s-s-s-sorry?" Frustrated, Diego groaned. "For the love of god, Klaus, what were you thinking?"

"I... I'm sorry," He repeated. Diego leaned back and rolled his eyes, running his free hand through his hair.

"Yeah, you said that. But you didn't answer my question- why?"

" I just... can't do it." Klaus began to break down. In fact, Diego thought it might have been the first time he had ever seen his brother cry. "I can't. All these- these freaking _dead_ _people,_ all the freaking time!" He gestured around, as if the ghosts were surrounding them. "I can hear them. I can hear _Ben._ " Diego froze. They rarely mentioned Ben since his death. If Klaus could actually hear Ben, if he could talk to him- it didn't matter. Not right now.

"Did you ever stop to consider that if you kept up this shit, you might become one of those dead people?" Diego's voice was eerily quiet. "And the rest of us can't talk to ghosts." He leaned over, pressing his forehead to their clasped hands. "I love you, Klaus, but I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. I can't. It's too much for me. I want to be there for you, but I-I-I-" he sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing, Klaus, any more than you do." Now, Diego began to cry. Klaus reached over with his free hand to stroke Diego's hair, a gesture he'd been doing since they were young and Diego had panic attacks when they came back from a mission. "We all had to grow up so fast, Klaus. We never had the chance to be kids, to figure our shit out like everyone else. So I don't blame you for any of this. I really don't. But I'm working through my shit, too, and I can't keep this up for much longer. You're my best friend, man, but life is so goddamned hard, and-" Diego looked down. Klaus had fallen back asleep, although he still clung to Diego's hand for dear life. It brought Diego back to an afternoon when they were ten.

It was late August and the Academy was on a day trip upstate. It was supposed to be a day to train outside and study nature, but they had broken for lunch. Grace had brought a picnic blanket and a basket full of sandwiches, and the seven children (Vanya had been permitted to come along on this outing because it was partially academic) had spread out under a tree, on the opposite side of the field from Reginald and Grace. Klaus and Diego lay side-by-side in the shade on top of their blazers, hands wound together so tight they practically had white knuckles. Klaus snored softly by Diego's side, and Diego remained frozen in place, despite the fact that he desperately had to itch his leg. The last night, Klaus had woken up at one and hadn't gone back to sleep, no matter what Diego did. So he needed the sleep. And yet, even in the middle of what might have been the best sleep of his whole childhood, he held on to Diego. They had each other. That was enough.

Klaus was discharged hardly an hour later, and Diego helped him to the car. He was hardly awake, and promptly fell asleep as soon as they got in the taxi.

"Hey, I got somewhere we need to go first." The cabbie nodded decisively, but Diego's stomach turned as he looked at his brother, asleep against the window. He looked more peaceful than he'd looked since that one afternoon under the tree. And Diego was about to tear that apart.

He shook Klaus awake as the cab pulled to a stop.

"We're here." Klaus snapped awake, somewhat disoriented. He looked around, squinting through the blinding sun. As the glare faded, so did any serenity that remained on his face.

"This isn't our building." It wasn't. The sign right outside the door read "Brighton Rehabilitation Center" in huge white letters.

"No. It's not."

"Diego, what are we doing-"

"You know why we're here." They were both silent for a moment.

"What the hell, man?" Klaus sounded hurt. It was well-deserved hurt, but still. "What the hell?" he asked again, angrier this time.

"You need to get clean, Klaus."

"You bastard!" Klaus's bony fists pounded into Diego's chest. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice cracked and he slumped back, tears streaking black lines through his eyeliner. Diego reached out, trying to take his hand, to pull him back, but Klaus snatched his hands out of reach. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Okay. Okay." Once again, they went quiet. "We should go in." Klaus laughed bitterly.

"Sure."

"Look, Klaus, I don't like this any more than you-"

"I find that _very_ hard to believe." Klaus's voice was acid eating through Diego's heart.

"But I want you to get better. I need you to. And I don't think you can do it on your own." Klaus's head sunk.

"Would you look at that? Not even my best friend believes in me." Diego reached over and pulled Klaus into a fierce hug. This time, Klaus didn't resist.

"I do believe in you. But I think that there are things you can't fight all on your own. We're a team. All of us. You and me. But I can't do everything I want to do to help you, so I need you to help yourself. For me. Klaus." Shoulders heaving, Klaus pulled away.

"Fine." He wiped away his tears, leaving black smudges under his eyes. Hand-in-hand, they walked in, Klaus putting all of his weight on Diego. They signed him in, strapped the bracelet around his wrist, and sat together in the lobby until finally, it was time to go. "Come back for me. Please," was the last thing Klaus said to his brother, his best friend, his teammate, and the first person that ever made him understand what being selfless truly meant.

"I will. You know I will. And, hey, when you get out of here..." Diego shrugged, smiling gently. "Call me. Please." Klaus nodded, tears welling up again in a way they hadn't since the day they realized Five was gone.

They had been thirteen, almost exactly five years ago. Five had stormed out of dinner in a fit of time-travel-related rage the day before and hadn't come back. At first, they assumed he was blowing off steam. Since they were very young, Five had probably the harshest anger issues of them all. Usually, he went off to the public library or Griddy's. But they checked those places, and they found nothing. And nothing was missing from his room. He was just... gone. Reginald gathered them in the drawing room to break the news. Luther and Allison sat together, frozen in shock. Ben went upstairs to the library. Diego found himself in the kitchen under the table, a bowl filled with jellybeans in front of him. He'd had to beg Grace to give them to him, but she had a soft spot for him, so she did. He and Five and Klaus and Ben were an inseparable group, or so they thought. And now they went from four to three. It would be a while before they were down to two, but it certainly felt like their numbers had been significantly depleted. He heard footsteps on the stone floor.

"I'm fine, Mom." Someone who was decidedly not Mom laughed.

"Sure." Klaus joined him under the table, folding his lanky legs to his chest and scooping a handful of jellybeans out of the bowl. "And that's why you've got all this... contraband?" With a grin, he tossed a red one into his mouth.

"Why are you so happy? Five's gone, don't you care?" The smile faded.

"Of course I care, Diego. He's our brother. But think about him. Five. Would he want us to cry because he got himself stuck somewhere?"

"...no."

"Exactly. He'd want us to wait for him to get his shit together and get back here and not worry until we have something to worry about." Klaus leaned forward, resting his chin on his knees. "That, and if I think too long about how I'll probably never see one of my best friends again, I'll be consumed by my thoughts and never be able to think about anything ever again. He's gone, probably time traveling, and one of two things happened: either he went somewhere and got stuck there and can't come back, which is bad, or, worse..." His lower lip wobbled, but he smiled through it, the dimple in his left cheek deepening. "Worse, he went somewhere else and decided he didn't want to come back. He found a place that wasn't a fucking nightmare and decided it was better to stay there than come back and be with his family. Think about it. Think about him. You really think if he had the option to get out of this hellhole and live a normal life, he wouldn't? He hated it here. We all do. And without Dad, he can do all the time-traveling he wants. So I don't know which is worse- that he's missing, maybe dead, and can't get back to his life, or that he left on purpose and didn't care enough about us to say anything." Klaus stared straight forward, past Diego into space. "But I can't think about it because if I do-" And without saying anything more, he burst into tears. His shoulders shook with sobs.

"Shit, Klaus, I didn't mean to- I'm sorry." Diego crawled across the floor until he sat beside Klaus. He leaned his head against Klaus's shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. "We'll get him back. I promise."

Now, five years later, Klaus cried in the same way, not like a baby, but like he needed to. Diego wrapped his arms around Klaus and squeezed.

"It's okay, Klaus, I'll be back for you." Eventually, Klaus stopped crying, and he hugged Diego back. Without exchanging another word, Diego detached himself from Klaus. He squeezed Klaus's hand once and planted a kiss in the middle of his thick brown curls. He inhaled slowly, trying to memorize the scent of Klaus's coconut shampoo. Awkwardly, he pulled away, patting Klaus's back, and turned, walking out the door as quickly as he could. If he had walked any slower, he might have been tempted to turn around, and he couldn't do that. If there was one thing he couldn't do, it was that.

He didn't ever hear from Klaus. He waited. Once, he even called Brighton to see if Klaus was still there. They said he had left months ago. He called every rehab center in the city, then the county, then the state. Every once in a while, he got a tip that Klaus might have showed up at one or another, and he took off to find him. But every time, it either wasn't him or he was already gone. The only other leads Diego ever got were over his police scanner, about dead junkies showing up in alleyways. Even after he quit the police, he still went to every one of those crime scenes to look. And yet, it was never Klaus. They missed each other every time, in some kind of elaborate dance between alleyways and bus stations. They lived a tale of two men in one city, a game of cat and mouse where neither was sure who was chasing who. It was twelve years before they finally caught up with one another.

Diego stood outside the gate to the Academy, unsure what he was doing there. He hated his father. He hadn't lived there in twelve years. Why was he here? Still, he went inside. It was just how he remembered it. Cold, dark, and untouchable. He was still looking around when the door opened behind him.

"Who's... there?" He whirled around to see the last person he expected to see.

"Diego?"

"Klaus?" Without a pause, they rushed towards each other, slamming full force into a hug tighter than a boa constrictor. "Jesus, where have you been? I thought you were dead!" Diego asked as they separated. Klaus looked away sheepishly.

"I got out of rehab two weeks after you left. I meant to call you, but I couldn't. I had to make sure I could handle myself. And then... I didn't. I O.D.'d again and went to a different rehab. And then another, and another, and..." Klaus sighed. "And every time I got out, I thought about calling you, but it got more and more painful. I just had to get my shit together."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't." Klaus hung his head. "I'm sorry, D."

"Shut up. You've got nothing to be sorry for." They hugged again, and Diego leaned his head against Klaus's shoulder. "I really did think you were dead."

"Please. You think I'd die before Dad? I had to outlive the old man. He always said he didn't think I would, so..." Klaus shrugged. "Here I am. I can die happy now." Diego elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't you fucking dare, Klaus. I've waited twelve years to see you again. And now, I'm never letting that happen again. When we get everything cleared up with Dad, you're coming home with me. I got rid of the apartment. I'm living at the gym. But I can hook you up with a job and a place to stay, and-"

"Cool it, big guy. I love you, but let's take it one day at a time." Diego nodded. "And you know what?"

"Hm?"

"You kept your promise. You came back for me." Diego chuckled, a sound that was unfamiliar to even him now.

"I guess you're right. I'm a few years late, but I'm here now. So are you."

"And we're never letting go."

"Damn right we're not." Diego slipped his hand into Klaus's and squeezed. "You're my brother. Even without Ben or Five, we're a team. More of a team than the whole damn Umbrella Academy ever was."

"You think Mom still keeps the jellybeans on the top shelf of the pantry?" Diego grinned.

"I think nothing's changed since we left."

"Well, I don't know about nothing." Klaus smiled sadly, his free hand drifting up to trace the long scar on Diego's temple.

"Not an issue. Just an occupational hazard." Klaus shook his head.

"What happened to Ben wasn't an occupational hazard."

"No. It wasn't. But shit happens."

"Shit happens." Klaus's eyes flickered to his right.

"Ben?"

"Yeah." Klaus laughed. "Ben."

"Welcome to the Umbrella Academy, where fucked-up kids get called superheroes." Klaus shrugged.

"I don't know. For fucked-up kids, I think we turned out alright."


End file.
